


trash pandas

by oculata



Series: the beginning of forever [15]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 10x11, Canon Compliant, Cutesy, Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Fluff, Gap Filler, M/M, Mickey loves his bathrobe, Season/Series 10, Sleepy Cuddles, post-episode, they see a raccoon idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22317322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oculata/pseuds/oculata
Summary: Ian and Mickey go home after their wedding planning at the Alibi.REQUEST:"possible fill in fic idea: post alibi - maybe a fluffy conversation about what theyre looking forward to the most about getting married as they walk home holding hands or having their arms around each other. when they get home they fall softly into bed as they daydream out loud with one another about their futures after they get married."(10x11 fill-in fic)
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: the beginning of forever [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1524932
Comments: 14
Kudos: 219





	trash pandas

**Author's Note:**

> i didn’t completely follow the request, but they’re still so cute! eeee!
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/_clennam)

Mickey realized that, in his mind, there were two different Chicagos. There was the first version, which resembled a dark, foreboding cloud dangling over his head, a perpetual storm that threatened to pour if he dared stray from its calculated, stringent path. This was the version that permeated his youth, and the only way he had ever found to survive in such an environment was to conform without question. As a budding adolescent, he came to an understanding that his life was not his to live. All he could do was follow the directions of the forces which circled him until his end came. He never knew when that end would come, but he expected that it was perpetually only ever minutes away—that it would be a quick, violent end to a miserable, disposable life.

Then one night, in the midst of a silent moment in an otherwise stuffy, chaotic bar, his life suddenly became his.

The city became different, the way he _moved_ around it was different. He didn’t know what it was, but somehow, the air felt softer. He would walk on the same beat up concrete path that he’d crossed daily since he was a child, but he could never experience it the same way ever again. Now, it felt like the solid asphalt would part under his feet, clearing a path of soft soil that would lead him to wherever he needed. Colors were more vibrant, too—even on the dreariest days, Mickey could pick out the different shades of grey speckled in the dimples of the clouds above. Most of all, though, things with Ian just felt better. Mickey enjoyed how easy it was to be happy in his own life with the person whom he loved most.

Despite being gone from the city for years, when he returned, it was as if nothing had changed from when he left. He wasn’t sure what he expected—maybe for some metaphysical wrong to be righted by the universe and return things to some sort of “proper order”—but everything felt just the same as when he left: the air was still cool and soft as it traveled through his nose and filled his lungs, the slab of metal covering the sky still found a way to be varicolored, and the ground still seemed to disjoin under his feet. And now, he could also hold his love’s hand as he walked down the street back to the little section of the universe that existed only for them.

It was dark, and Mickey’s hand was getting tired of the lobster claw grip it had on his magazines and notebook. He could sense his body getting frustrated, and whenever it did, Ian would respond by tightening his grip on Mickey’s hand and rubbing a finger over Mickey’s ring. Mickey wondered if someday he would become numb to that response to his restlessness, but Ian had been doing it for weeks, and it never failed to send a wave of calmness through Mickey’s body.

“Holy shit!” Mickey exclaimed as something tubby and fluffy scampered across the sidewalk a few feet in front of them. He tried to launch forward towards the being, but Ian pulled him back, and Mickey’s feet twisted around each other until he fell against Ian’s chest. He waved his magazines and notebook at the street, and the creature looked at him with its glowing yellow eyes.

“Mick, you can’t just—”

“Holy shit, I think it’s a fucking raccoon. I haven’t seen one in fuckin’ forever,” Mickey exclaimed, rather gobsmacked. He tried to tiptoe closer to the animal, but Ian yanked him back against his chest.

The sudden motion startled the raccoon, and it took off across the street until it was swallowed by the darkness.

“What the fuck, man!” Mickey shouted as he whipped around to look at Ian. “What if it was hungry?”

“You got food for it?” Ian returned, waving at Mickey’s occupied, but foodless, hands.

Mickey choked on his words. “We could’ve fuckin’ bought it some,” he eventually said with a joking conviction.

Ian smiled and rolled his eyes. He resumed walking and tugged Mickey towards the house despite Mickey’s leadened feet.

“Jesus Christ, that fuckin’ thing was huge,” Mickey remarked, eyes glued to where the raccoon was before it disappeared.

Mickey could hear Ian snicker. Mickey wasn’t as caught off guard by normalcy anymore—in the past, he’d been so surprised with and even suspicious of Ian’s kindness and acceptance of him—but there were still the occasional moments where Mickey was acutely aware of how easy everything was with Ian. Something floating in the city’s atmosphere allowed that—for him and Ian, hand in hand, to march home and gawk at a raccoon in a playful flurry before continuing their trek, a little more giggly than before. Mickey didn’t know what he’d do if he couldn’t laugh with Ian. Mostly, though, he couldn’t believe he was going to be able to laugh with Ian forever.

They finally returned home, still chuckling between themselves as Mickey made mock promises to bring home the raccoon if he ever saw it again. The entered the kitchen, and Ian threw open the dryer, where they had haphazardly stuffed in a twisted bundle of wet clothes because Mickey was losing his mind about the fact that they were running behind schedule.

“Oh shit,” Ian commented as he pulled something out. “Your bathrobe is still warm.”

Mickey’s automatic reaction was to squeal a little, throw his magazines and notebook onto the kitchen counter, and grab the robe from Ian’s hands. He threw it on, letting out a pleased noise as the heat from the fluffy fabric sunk in through his shirt and hit his skin. Ian watched in adoration as Mickey wrapped his arms around himself, the toasty sleeves warming his cold neck.

“Feel good?” Ian asked with a little giggle as he advanced on his cozy fiancé, threading his fingers through Mickey’s hair and pressing a kiss onto his forehead.

“Yeah,” Mickey hummed. He continued in a more normal voice, “Wanna get into fuckin’ bed though; tired as fuck.” He turned and began heading up the stairs to their bedroom. “Grab my shit off the counter!”

Ian grinned, grabbed their pile of clothes from the dryer, and managed to place Mickey’s accoutrements on top of the wad. He held it in place with his chin as he ambled up the stairs. When he kicked the door open, he could see Mickey already laying atop their sheets, eyes closed and his bathrobe’s fabric cradling his face. Only the tips of his fingers were peeking out from the large, floppy sleeves. Ian threw down the laundry onto a chair, then quietly floated over to the other side of the room to put Mickey’s magazines and notebook on the nightstand.

“You gonna fold that shit before we sleep?” Mickey asked a little groggily, making Ian jump in surprise because he’d assumed that Mickey was asleep.

“It’s your turn,” Ian said as he stripped down to his boxers before climbing over Mickey onto his side of the bed. He laid on his side, threw an arm around Mickey’s torso, and was about to close his eyes when he noticed Mickey peering over at him.

“I dunno, man. I’m kinda plannin’ a wedding so I feel like I’m excused from laundry duty.”

“Don’t think that’s how it works,” Ian challenged with a sly grin.

“You might’ve missed the memo or somethin’,” Mickey said. “'Cause wedding planning’s really stressful.”

Ian arched a brow.

Mickey exhaled a loud, dramatic sigh. “Fine, I’ll fuckin’ do it tomorrow,” he grumbled and sunk further into his plush robe.

Ian giggled and slid up to kiss Mickey’s cheek. “I’ll help.” He kissed him again and felt Mickey’s cheeks rise up under his lips.

It was quiet for a moment as Ian rested his chin on Mickey’s shoulder, allowing the mixture of Mickey’s scent and laundry detergent to soothe him.

“I’m looking forward to that,” Ian said, nuzzling his nose against Mickey’s jawline.

“What?”

“This,” Ian clarified. “You know, like, trying to figure out who’s going to fold the laundry and then laying in bed together like this.”

“We’ve been doin’ that for a while, Gallagher,” Mickey reminded with a little chuckle.

“I know,” Ian said, his tone becoming more sincere and earnest. “But I guess I just feel like marriage makes it different. I don’t really know where I’m going with this because I’m really tired, but I think you know what I mean.”

It was quiet for a beat as Ian tried to recalibrate his thoughts into something more coherent.

“I guess I’m just excited to have that official thing, you know? I feel like we’ve been acting married for a while now, but now there’s gonna be, like, taxes and shit involved, and—”

“Damn, Ian, gonna get me all hot talkin’ like that,” Mickey snorted. Ian dug his fingers in through the thick fabric until he could grab at Mickey’s side to pinch him, causing his fiancé to snicker and kick his socked feet up. Once the momentary excitement died down, Ian resumed his speech.

“I guess marriage is the way you know you’re gonna be with someone forever, and I guess if I’m going to argue with someone about how to correctly fold a shirt everyday for the rest of my life, I’m really glad that someone is you.”

Mickey turned to face Ian and narrowed his gaze at him. “Not my fault you spend all that extra time foldin’ the fuckin’ sleeves when my way takes two seconds,” he said seriously.

Ian responded to the stony expression with a goofy grin, and Mickey instantly softened. He looked down at where Ian’s arm was wrapped around him, all the freckles dotting his skin competing with the golden light above them to stay visible.

“I’m lookin’ forward to that, too,” Mickey began. “Guess life sorta feels different with you in it.”

When he saw how Ian’s lips parted at his words and how his eyes twinkled with astonishment, Mickey threw his head to the side and rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ, keep your fuckin’ shirt on, Ian.”

“You told me to write my own vows, but you get all embarrassed when I react to something nice you say?!” Ian bellowed as he shook his fiancé like a ragdoll.

Mickey turned back to face him, and Ian could see the crimson pleasantly staining his cheeks. He leaned in and pressed their lips together until he felt Mickey melt under him.

“You wanna go brush our teeth?” Ian asked when they separated.

“Nah. I’ll just bitch at you in the morning when you try to kiss me with your nasty breath,” Mickey replied as he snuggled deeper into his bathrobe and touched Ian’s forehead to his.

Ian giggled and finally let his eyes loll closed. “Alright.”


End file.
